Something has been happening in Delhi for a long time. It's a subtle cultural shift - a coarsening of values, a renunciation of things that previously mattered. There's something subtly off about this city, something weird, brutal and unpleasant. It's obvious in the little things. The expensive cars that roar down quiet, suburban streets at racecourse speed, uncaring of whom they might mow down. The long lines of scantily clad and giggling 20-year-olds in line to get into the top "clubs," who theoretically live at "home" but whose parents haven't seen them in months. The lines of women and men tacked out in head-to-toe designer ensembles, who'll pay Rs. 1000 for a plate of soggy "nachos" at a bar but disdain the fresh, crispy chaat that goes for Rs. 10 by the roadside. The groups of greasy boys in imported cars who roll up outside nightclubs and sit in the car, smoking joints together and watching women in short dresses go up the stairs. The boy in a knockoff LaCoste shirt who hollers "Get out of here, go back home!" at three young white girls who stand waiting to cross a street in South Delhi. The happy helplessness of law enforcement as they threaten victims in order to convince them not to file official police reports.
The constant menace of violence; the constant reality that it goes unchecked. That someone is always grabbing, and someone is always getting shaken down, and nobody looks at it too closely.
You can't live in Delhi for long without getting an itchy, uncomfortable feeling, like somebody creepy is constantly looking over your shoulder.
But Delhi is a beautiful city. It is full of beautiful, rich people, influential thinkers, powerbrokers big and small. There are malls, public parks, freeways and fast food. But at the end of the day, it's a place where people live with the constant awareness that they exist on one side of a divide: either they are the rulers, or they are the ruled.
In college, I studied Indonesian history, particularly the period of rapid economic growth under Suharto. Despite an impressive growth rate, new wealth was siphoned off by an existing elite.
"Why is uneven growth a bad thing?" asked our professor, over and over. We had to prove something that we all instinctively wanted to be true.
Why is uneven growth a bad thing?
We talk a lot about why uneven growth is bad for the poor, but that's a bit of a false statement. That's the same argument we've been tossing about for years: poverty is bad. Uneven growth is bad for the poor because poverty is bad.
But what about for the rich, the beneficiaries? There is a small but growing generation of Indian children who are growing up with the type of privilege that Bill Gates' children could only dream of. These Indians are immune from want; they are immune from the law; and they are therefore immune from conscience. Their spirits have been corroded by access. If they can achieve something, it is right that they do it. Why should they care if their car hits somene on the street? They are the champions; the streets belong to them.
There is a curious thing that happens in cultures where rulers are worshipped as gods. Not overnight, but over generations, the king too comes to believe this. He becomes incapable of distinguishing between his own will and divine will. Everything he does is pre-destined, it is right.
And how does this generation of godlings treat inferior beings? With utter disdain. The average rich Indian doesn't just look at a poor neighbor with contempt - he doesn't look on him at all. The lower classes are utterly invisible. Their meager attempts to eke out an infinitesimal fraction of GDP neither register in the national account nor in society at large. Gandhi's fervent protestations have been forgotten so quickly, so completely, that it's almost as if some cultural Hiroshima has taken place. The law of self-sacrifice has been replaced by the law of the jungle. Life is beautiful, but it doesn't seem to have any meaning. The central impression is one of lust, a lust without consequences.
You think I'm being overly harsh? I'm not saying the United States doesn't suffer from its own corruptions. God knows, there are plenty. But my subject today isn't the United States; these two phenomena co-exist.
When I moved to Delhi, people tried to explain to me that there was something off about the place. And for a while I thought they were nuts. They were talking about one of the most commodious, the most happening, the most rapidly growing, the most fun, the most powerful cities on the Asian continent.
And I've loved all those things about Delhi. They are excellent.
But there is something off about Delhi. I don't even know if it's a new thing - the collision between political power and poverty has always been an unpleasant thing to witness. But still. This city has a weird culture. It doesn't feel safe, but the dangers I'm talking about are spiritual, not physical.
Absolute power corrupts, absolutely.
The constant menace of violence; the constant reality that it goes unchecked. That someone is always grabbing, and someone is always getting shaken down, and nobody looks at it too closely.
You can't live in Delhi for long without getting an itchy, uncomfortable feeling, like somebody creepy is constantly looking over your shoulder.
But Delhi is a beautiful city. It is full of beautiful, rich people, influential thinkers, powerbrokers big and small. There are malls, public parks, freeways and fast food. But at the end of the day, it's a place where people live with the constant awareness that they exist on one side of a divide: either they are the rulers, or they are the ruled.
In college, I studied Indonesian history, particularly the period of rapid economic growth under Suharto. Despite an impressive growth rate, new wealth was siphoned off by an existing elite.
"Why is uneven growth a bad thing?" asked our professor, over and over. We had to prove something that we all instinctively wanted to be true.
Why is uneven growth a bad thing?
We talk a lot about why uneven growth is bad for the poor, but that's a bit of a false statement. That's the same argument we've been tossing about for years: poverty is bad. Uneven growth is bad for the poor because poverty is bad.
But what about for the rich, the beneficiaries? There is a small but growing generation of Indian children who are growing up with the type of privilege that Bill Gates' children could only dream of. These Indians are immune from want; they are immune from the law; and they are therefore immune from conscience. Their spirits have been corroded by access. If they can achieve something, it is right that they do it. Why should they care if their car hits somene on the street? They are the champions; the streets belong to them.
There is a curious thing that happens in cultures where rulers are worshipped as gods. Not overnight, but over generations, the king too comes to believe this. He becomes incapable of distinguishing between his own will and divine will. Everything he does is pre-destined, it is right.
And how does this generation of godlings treat inferior beings? With utter disdain. The average rich Indian doesn't just look at a poor neighbor with contempt - he doesn't look on him at all. The lower classes are utterly invisible. Their meager attempts to eke out an infinitesimal fraction of GDP neither register in the national account nor in society at large. Gandhi's fervent protestations have been forgotten so quickly, so completely, that it's almost as if some cultural Hiroshima has taken place. The law of self-sacrifice has been replaced by the law of the jungle. Life is beautiful, but it doesn't seem to have any meaning. The central impression is one of lust, a lust without consequences.
You think I'm being overly harsh? I'm not saying the United States doesn't suffer from its own corruptions. God knows, there are plenty. But my subject today isn't the United States; these two phenomena co-exist.
When I moved to Delhi, people tried to explain to me that there was something off about the place. And for a while I thought they were nuts. They were talking about one of the most commodious, the most happening, the most rapidly growing, the most fun, the most powerful cities on the Asian continent.
And I've loved all those things about Delhi. They are excellent.
But there is something off about Delhi. I don't even know if it's a new thing - the collision between political power and poverty has always been an unpleasant thing to witness. But still. This city has a weird culture. It doesn't feel safe, but the dangers I'm talking about are spiritual, not physical.
Absolute power corrupts, absolutely.
No comments:
Post a Comment